My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hum
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there t
Here the clam deep in the speckled

He stunk of old stale cigarettes a

WHAT guile is this, that those h
She doth attire under a net of gol
And with sly skill so cunningly th
That which is gold, or hair, may s
Is it that men’s frail eyes, which

Shadows on the wall
Noises down the hall
Life doesn’t frighten me at all
Bad dogs barking loud
Big ghosts in a cloud

Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me
Went for a ride in a flying shoe.
“Hooray!”
“What fun!"
“It’s time we flew!”

I thought it would last my time—
The sense that, beyond the town,
There would always be fields and f
Where the village louts could clim
Such trees as were not cut down;

I had a dove, and the sweet dove d
And I have thought it died of gri
O what could it grieve for? Its f
With a silken thread of my own han
Sweet little red feet! Why would

We wear the mask that grins and li
It shades our cheeks and hides our
This debt we pay to human guile
With torn and bleeding hearts…
We smile and mouth the myriad subt

The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance...
our long way home.
I was always yours to have.

The highway is full of big cars
going nowhere fast
And folks is smoking anything that
Some people wrap their lies around
And you sit wondering

Take me back to The Mango Tree
where it was sweet
where it was always May
Take me back to The Mango Tree
Where your love was magic

Why should I let the toad work
Squat on my life?
Can’t I use my wit as a pitchfork
And drive the brute off?
Six days of the week it soils